


just tryin to get by

by robotwrites



Series: robot makes mikey die [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (THAT TAG IS A JOKE), Avenger Bucky Barnes, Avenger reader - Freeform, F/M, Gender-neutral Reader, Height Differences, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Short Reader, bucky is an asshole, but he’s a tall strong suave bastard with a metal arm so i guess.. beggars can’t be choosers, like we talkin under 5’5”, scratch that he’s an absolute BASTARD, shy reader, tall motherfuckers don’t interact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-13 19:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16024343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotwrites/pseuds/robotwrites
Summary: bucky is an asshole and likes how nervous people are around him when they find him attractive. especially when said people are you.(aka, “robot couldn’t get this one specific image out of its head so it wrote this.”)(the height difference is just sorta implied whoopsie daisy)





	just tryin to get by

**Author's Note:**

> this is gay. i want bucky to annoy me about being soft for him.
> 
> i’m gay. i’m fucking gay. that’s it.
> 
> also idk why my brain decided on the “making salad” scenario?? it was funny to me at least?????

Zoning out while working was your thing. No matter how hard you tried, your mind focused on the task at hand and nothing else, but sometimes, that was a good thing. You had avoided many awkward conversations and countless lines of small talk because of your intensity while performing even the simplest of tasks.

Standing in one of the compound’s smaller, more homey kitchens, you’re carefully, peacefully chopping the vegetables for the salad everyone’s been pestering you to make. _It’s like nobody around here but me eats carbs or protein,_ you had thought, but whenever you’d asked why the only person on the compound who isn’t the biggest veggie fan had to make it, they’d all given you the same excuses: “Busy” or “You make it better than I do.”

You had given in and promised the others - mostly Nat and Clint, if you were being honest - that it would be done by the time they got home tonight, so here you were, seemingly alone in the compound. Peacefully, quietly alone, chopping lettuce -

\- until a door opens on the other end of the room.

You stop your hand, but don’t let go of the knife. Nat’s knife tips play back in your head at light speed as you wait in place for the footsteps to tell you where this person is heading.

 _You gotta be kidding me._ They’re coming towards you. They’re only five steps from the doorway to the kitchen area. _Didn’t expect to cut a bitch today, but -_ You whirl around, propelling yourself across the room using the island with your right hand, knife poised to strike in your left hand as they step into view -

“Hey, hey! Woah! Friendly!” Bucky raises his hands in mock fear. “Just wanted somethin’ to drink, jeez. Ya’d think we got an intruder problem around here.” He drops his hands back to his hands, smiling sarcastically for a brief moment before switching to confused.

“Y’okay there?”

You are dumbstruck not by surprise or fear, but by -

_No. Absolutely not. No having an awkward crush on your teammates. Not allowed. No._

\- that.

Abruptly turning back to your lettuce, you opt to not reply. You know that, logically, he’ll just brush it off, get what he needs, and leave you in peace. Bucky is annoying like that. _How does he make nonchalance look so easy?_ your brain asks as you try to finish your work. God help you if you tried to answer that one.

“Okay. Silent treatment it is, then,” he says with shrug. “Be like that, ignore me.” His tone is knowing and playful, but he opens the cupboard across the room to get a glass anyway.

 _Just awesome. Just great. Great!_ You interally fume with frustration at this situation, which was the worst you could think of right now. _Please go away. Please._

He was doing the opposite of that, unfortunately.

You hear Bucky grab a glass, shut the cupboard, and start to walk back towards you. He was coming back around the island, instead of just continuing on his original path. The “he’ll get what he needs and leave” idea is dying fast, and starts practically bleeding out as he hesitates. In your peripherals, you see him lean on the counter just a bit, and _why is that making me feel warm inside? Fucking shit -_

“Hey,” he says, more of a formality than anything - He knows he has your full attention. “I know you’re busy here, so -”

He steps behind you, barely making it through the space. The warmth of his body radiates off of him, the weight of his chest presses onto your shoulders, and he brushes the small of your back with his lose hand (the metal one). “...just gonna slip by here.”

You grip the knife as if it will keep you on this Earth; as if, if you let go, you won’t be able to resist the pull to ascend onto a higher plane of existence because your emotions are moving at the speed of light.

First off, did Bucky just _touch_ you? Did he touch you like _that?_ Of course he did, it was too vivid to be a daydream (not that you daydream about this or something). Second, is he insinuating something through this? There’s no way -

Your list is cut short by the sound of a glass being placed in the sink to your left. You spare the quickest glance, but refuse to look at him, and realize that this salad really doesn’t need more lettuce. So, you throw the chopped pieces into the bowl without looking and hastily put both the leftovers and the bowl in the fridge, meanwhile deciding to suppress this memory later.

You don’t even clean your mess; you turn on your heel, ready make a beeline for the door -

“Wait.”

 _Oh, Jesus, please, God, **no**_.

Mental protesting won’t do you any good, so you sheepishly turn yourself around, craning your neck ever so slightly to look him in the stormy eyes.

“Yes?”

He seems contemplative yet content as he steps up to you slowly; eyes half lidded, head tilted to his left, your right, hair framing his face like it’s art, and a smile that threatens to make you pass out.

When he’s close enough that you can feel his warmth again, he stops.

“I’ve just gotta say that...”

He trails off, the tiniest flash of uncertainty darting across his face before being replaced with suave confidence.

You start to prompt him to finish, but he’s already picked you up by the shoulders and pressed you against the wall. Your feet dangle above the ground as he rests his head next to your ear.

“I just gotta say that _God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous._ ”

He’s already placing warm kisses along your neck by the time you realize what he said. Your toes curl involuntarily, your eyes flutter and threaten to roll back into your head, and the rest of your body feels like it’s being lit on fire. His breath sends gossebumps across your skin, his lips feel like they were made to kiss you, and who knew that hearing someone make a “hmm” sound while pressing their face against you would make you feel this _good._

He lets go after he appreciates both sides of you, not before. He pulls away panting like he ran a marathon, and looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s laid eyes upon.

Lowering you to the floor, he puts his hands on either side of you. He can’t let go just yet - he wants to see your reaction.

Unfortunately, it’s not much to see. You just stare into his chest in disbelief. Disbelief that this escalted so quickly, disbelief that you enjoyed it.

“Sorry that this was all sudden, sweetheart,” he says, voice still quiet, but smile still unendingly cocky.

“Just had to take the opportunity when I saw it.”


End file.
